


English Breakfast

by Shatterpath



Category: Bad Girls, CSI: NY
Genre: Crossover, F/F, crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:12:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikki (Bad Girls) & Stella (CSINY) have woken up naked in bed, with no recollection of what happened the night before. What happened the night before?</p><p>Crack!fic prompt from Ariestess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	English Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Archive permission to Shatterstorm Productions and Archive of Our Own only, please.

It is the pounding, nauseating blare in brain, belly, and body that wakes me with an animal noise that alarms me as an officer of the law. It sounds like a tortured victim begging for mercy from some horrible fate. And it had come from me.

Then another voice answers with an incoherent rumble that I think is supposed to be words.

Crap, there's a stranger in my bed! No… not my bed. Great…

"Bloody, fuckin' hell," the voice moans pathetically and several things register to my normally sharp investigative mind. That voice is distinctively feminine and just as distinctively a Brit.

She is also stark naked where she is wrapped around my equally bare body.

Oh boy…

And the languorous sensations of being completely well-fucked are not at all foreign. As my head starts to clear, I realize that I have indeed been pleasantly well-fucked. I can't remember the last time parts of me felt quite this damn good. Even the hangover is starting to fade, though I'm distractedly dry-mouthed.

"Last bloody damn time I pick up a bored American in a pub and get that fuckin' pissed," she rumbles and her lanky, curvy body moves away, the bed shifting. Too damn curious to avoid the clichéd 'morning after', I roll over into the warm spot she left and curiously eye the lean back, womanly hips, and comic book bed-head in inky black. Like me, she's just this side of swarthy, though with a completely different undertone of color. When a sharply defined face and earthy dark eyes swivel my way, I'm guessing a good dose of Middle Eastern in those genes. She has a really nice smile, with a sassy edge of teasing that makes me smile back.

British… she's British. I'm on vacation in London with Mac for some R&amp;R after the meltdown in Greece. In fact… didn't we come straight here from the Mediterranean? Ugh, there's no point in torturing my aching head for currently unnecessary details when I need to process an obviously wild night with this… woman.

Though, freaking out over the pretty wild sidestep from my usual sexual fare seems hypocritical at this point. What happens in London stays in London, right?

"Thanks," my voice rasps and cracks like shifting, shattering wood and I have to roughly clear away the debris and growl up some saliva to loosen things up enough to try again. "Thanks for the old-world hospitality."

For a long moment she only stares at me before dissolving into throaty chuckles. "Mad as a hare you are, copper. Get up and get dressed so that I can feed you. I can hear that beast from here."

Led by my achingly empty stomach, my thirst and the lingering pleasant soreness of happy muscles, I obey.


End file.
